Sometimes stories of our soul need a place to sit.
I'm rather envious of the way the wind dances with each blade of grass, never staying too little or too long. Lingering is sometimes a tricky business. It's best to do when you've packed snacks.
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twitter.com/niabake:
I want to experience the way wind wraps it’s many fingers around my wrist and drags me down the steps, up the hill, into a sea of drops of liquid too small to drink and too large to absorb.
I want to feel the heat of the earth and the cold of the cloud and the way they cannot seem to stop their dance of everything fearsome, both trying to explain themselves and being unable to escape the other.
I want to hear the crack of sky- opening, water- falling, light- chasing, my every thought of needing comfort gone to awe inspiring wonder at nature’s romance.
Because, at the end, -at the end of all that raucous, the maddening discourse, I see them being birthed. In a line from sky to earth, uniting broken air - a million rainbows. They are stretching their first breaths and promising hope.
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